Assassin's Creed: Nemesis
by Topkicker26
Summary: Something that should have been kept buried was stolen only to be dumped on a seemingly targeted stranger. Now comes the long road of trying to find the way back home. Problem is: will it be that easy? Federico/OC
1. Prologue- Bad Moon Rising

_Well what is this sorcery? TK writing things again. And on her own! –le gasp-. I know I know. Crazy stuff since it seemed kind of impossible :p_

 _Right well as you can see this is NOT a Transformers story, (again –le gasp-) but rather a story that's set in the awesome history spanning video game series that has me drooling over hot men in hoods (*coughEziocough*). However this story will primarily be centered on Assassin's Creed II and quite possibly Brotherhood. (Depending on how I feel). And it_ _ **will**_ _be an AU fic. Buuuut you gotta stick around to see what this brain has in mind. ;)_

 _No, before you say or ask it, I am not new to this series. Yes, I am… well rather late in writing this kind of stuff, but no I am not someone who has just started loving this fandom. I have been quite passionately addicted to the lore and characters of Assassin's Creed for seven years now and am usually the person people go to in case of assistance about someone, something, or the in-betweens._

 _Ask my friends. They WILL confirm this to be true._

 _Speaking of friends, the premise, drama, and eventual pairing of this annoying plot bunny rose from the thousands upon thousands (and I do mean thousands) of Facebook messages that were spammed upon me because of two very impressionable people who had nothing better to do besides listen to me spout crap, encourage writing, throwing couple centric songs, and giving advice/pep talks back when I oh so sorely needed it. (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! AND YOU BETTER APPRECIATE THIS MESS. *Iloveyoubitchessodon'tspoilshitmkay?*)_

 _And since I'm on the subject of thanking people, I would like to dedicate a lot of the inspiration of my main OC to the person who continually pestered me to create a character for a long forgotten RP. If you're reading this, dear, thanks- without you, this character and her quirks would have never been born!_

 _May or may not use song titles as chapters- we'll see at this point hahaha. Obviously though I'm using CCR's Bad Moon Rising for this one! Why? Wellllllllllllll you'll see ;)_

 _As always, if any of you notice grammar, spelling, and word mistakes, PLEASE let me know. I can only catch so many._

 _Much as I wish I do-I do_ _ **not**_ _own any of the elements that make up Assassin's Creed. Nor do I own their (unfairly) attractive male characters. The only things that ARE mine are my original characters._

 _Without any further adoooo, I give you_ Assassin's Creed: Nemesis _!_

 _-TK_

 _ **Summary:**_ Something that should have been kept buried was stolen only to be dumped on a seemingly targeted stranger. Now comes the long road of trying to find the way back home. Problem is: Will it be that easy? Federico/OC

* * *

 _**Assassin's Creed:**_

 _ **Nemesis**_

 _ **Written by**_ _ **-Topkicker26**_

* * *

 ***~Prologue~***

 _Hope you got your things together._

 _Hope you are quite prepared to die._

 _Looks like we're in for nasty weather._

 _One eye is taken for an eye._

 _Well don't go around tonight,_

 _Well it's bound to take your life,_

 _There's a bad moon on the rise._

* * *

 **December 26, 2013**

It was snowing.

Not quite the most uncommon thing for the current time of year, especially for a city smack dab in Quebec, where the normal winter temperatures averaged around negative nine degrees Celsius. Worst still, it felt even colder than that with the icy winds cutting through layers like a knife. Most of the residents were used to it though, treating it like a pest, or a dog begging for food. It was just _there_ and was better to accept the truth and deal with it than throw your hands up in the air and lament about the woes of living in such a miserable place and wishing they could move to somewhere warmer, (i.e. Victoria). And yes- this did occur when it came to the commuters who had to travel between the peaceful suburb of Longueuil and the bustling city of Montréal. They were, as one could say, the unofficial experts when it came to driving in the snow, so complaining was really a silly thing to do amongst these hardened souls.

However, to the man dressed in a thick snow jacket with its fur-lined hood pulled low, slogging awkwardly through the drifts- it was quite the nuisance, slowing him down and making it that much harder to get to his destination on time. This tidbit was distressing to say the least as he crunched through the slowly hardening snow- for he was somewhat in a hurry. And treading carefully down an alleyway was doing nothing for his short lived patience. Of course though, if he even thought about quickening the pace, it would be his luck to acquire such a thing as a broken leg. Couple that with slowly expiring from the gunshot through his back, and this could potentially be the unluckiest day of his entire existence, brief as it was.

So…. perhaps it was wiser to stay the course of going slow.

His oncoming death was not so much as an _if_ but a _when_. He didn't know how long he had, but he just knew deep down, his thirty five and three-quarters year old life was slowly coming to an end. Even though the bastards who did this were long gone, either dead or otherwise- their compatriots were sure to be hungry for revenge. Come to think of it, they were probably already on their way to relieve him of the prize he went through so much to retrieve. Hopefully by the time they found him though, his original task would be complete and they would find their struggle to find him all for naught.

Briefly the clouds separated showing the faintest glimmer from the waning moon, bathing the snow that was beginning to pile up on cars in an eerie tint. Almost making the buried machines look like slumbering beasts under their blankets of white. Watching the light fade back into grey, his mind wandered back briefly to the time where he accepted this job. Even though he knew it had only been a couple of days since then, it truly felt like forever and a year since that afternoon.

"No matter what happens-,"she had suddenly started in a serious way, after hours of her being unusually quiet. The absence of her soft singing voice in the morning made him speculate if not worry over what was going on to make her so nervous. Taken back by her pale face as she pushed the manila envelope his way across their dining room table, the thief-for-hire noticed how her green eyes were absent of their usual mirth. "-do not open the box to peek once you get inside, do not drop the box, when you acquire it, do not let it fall back into their hands, and above all else, _do not touch the object with your bare hands."_

Of course, after reading through the contents, he had laughed it off while patting her hand, assuring the love of his life that it would be a cakewalk and before they knew it they would be drinking the money they had earned away at dinner. His treat, he had smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she scowled telling him to take it seriously, reminding him this _was_ their last job after all. Of course he knew that, and then afterwards they could finally settle down and begin to build a future together.

To which he told her with a laugh, reassuring her again that all was going to be well.

Looking back, all he did was grimace and kick himself. Dammit, he shouldn't have been so cocky _._ If only he had _known._ Now it seemed he was paying the price and he doubted if he was ever coming home, and immediately clung to that last memory of his wife. Hoping, _praying_ she would forgive him when she heard the news.

He squinted his eyes shut temporarily, shutting out any chance for tears to form, _Gods I'm so sorry my love..._

Panting from the exertion, he slowed to a stop for a quick breath, and adjusted the small parcel deeper into his pocket. No point losing his prize after all that trouble, just because it slipped out of his jacket. He awkwardly tugged at his sleeve to glance at his wristwatch, afterwards grimacing. 0643. Damn, still stuck since the Event.

His memory was foggy as to what exactly happened, but the one prominent thing he did recall was the brief yet blinding light, and suddenly all the guards that had appeared to start shooting at him, had either collapsed unconscious or just vanished. Judging by the sounds of receding footsteps, those that had 'vanished' were well on their way out the building. In an adrenaline-fueled panic, he had grabbed the strange object, (pierced by a stray bullet no doubt, that surprisingly left little damage when brushed aside) from the shattered remains of its former wooden prison, shoved it into his pocket, and ran, his ears still suffering from tinnitus. It wasn't until later, _much_ later did he realize that he had been shot. Funny he hadn't felt the pain…

Fishing out the note that was given to him, although already knowing what it said in its unfamiliar yet fancy cursive:

 _Look for the woman with the red streaks. At this time and place she'll be there. However, do not by any way acknowledge her, but give her the package discreetly._ _She'll know what to do._

This was followed by a scrawled out address, one he hoped he was nearing since most of the address signs were covered in ice and many of the buildings looked one and the same in the night hour. Poor visibility due to the storm didn't help either.

Feeling eyes on the back of his head, he threw a quick look over his shoulders, expecting armed men stalking him. But no, nothing openly confronted him outside of the slowly disappearing trail his feet had made. Yet the sensation of ghostly fingers running down his spine that only came from paranoia was still there. The irrational part of his brain was screaming at him that someone was following him, _watching_ him from the comfort of the dark. The thief even swore he saw a shape mingle back into the dark. The rational part however, deduced it could have just been a hobo, a stray cat, or possibly just his brain slowly collapsing due to blood loss.

Probably the last one given his current predicament and all.

If so- dying rather sucked, he concluded with another shake of his head, knocking off some of the built up snow from the top of his head. Whatever the case may be, he trudged on. He had to keep going and find the intended bull, even when, again not if, _they_ were going to find and put him down eventually.

With that said, he ventured a little more before he approximately judged he was coming up to the expected meeting place; which turned out to be a small sports bar with half of the neon letters either burned out or buried under snow. All he could make out were a couple of L's, a U, and something that could have either been a K or an I. Bah the name was irrelevant anyway since he only planned to be here for a couple of minutes.

While finalizing his approach and double checking that, yes this was the place, he slipped a hand into his pocket, feeling the rough edges of the object, a tinge of strange regret forming in the back of his head. The queer feeling immediately departed him however, as soon as he drew his hand away. On most if not on all his missions, he barely cared as to what he was told to steal. But this... this was a first. Why such high security for a broken piece of rock? _What did I steal?_ It was obvious whatever he had been charged in acquiring was way beyond his understanding, and in response he wished nothing more than to drop it and run. But his pride wouldn't let him- a job was a job and he _had_ to finish it. Not for his sake, oh no but that of his wife's.

A thin smile appeared on his lips as he sat, or more like collapsed on the bench right outside the bar, his breathing having suddenly become labored. Muttering a quiet curse as another pained breath went out of his lungs he decided it was here that he was going to wait. He crossed his legs and arms blowing softly down into the collar of his jacket to warm the air there as he just… watched. After a few minutes, a brief longing look in his dark brown eyes appeared as he continued to spectate the comings and goings of suburbia night life. A pair of teens walked by, the storm doing little to suppress their giggling and sharing of smooches for it was obvious they were in the throes of young love. Another group passed him, this time a bunch of young men thinking that the world couldn't touch them. Slightly envious of the care-free attitude, he was half tempted to join them and go inside. Get one last drink- a scotch perhaps, or maybe a local whiskey, and think on the old times before the world would go dark when he finally bit the dust…

~o~

If the man had gone inside, he probably would have noticed straight away the difference between Old Man Winter's icy presence berating him outside and the bar's warm toasty atmosphere that smelled faintly of alcohol and piss since someone forgot to clean the bathroom apparently. Despite that though, no one seemed to be affected by the blizzard, via the many colored Canadian jerseys pressing up against the bar top trying to catch the multiple games broadcasted on the four huge mounted televisions. It was an almost hushed silence as they watched the puck dance back and forth between the opposing sides of the ice rink, the stifled silence a bizarre thing in an otherwise lively place. Suddenly the quiet aura was broken by a roar of approval as several Maple Leafs fans jumped up in revelry since their team was now leading by two points.

"A 'partnership'?"

Tristan frowned into the contents of her Jägermeister; grey eyes the only signs of her distaste as she sipped, relishing in the sharp tang of the fiery liquid. Tucked in to the dimly lit corner of the establishment, she watched the lean tall man with straw blonde hair next to her, rub his ear wincing as he straightened. He was obviously uncomfortable, avoiding her rather scrutinizing gaze. Honestly, she could hardly blame him for the action- she _did_ have a rather intense stare.

Continuing to ignore her, he went on rambling. "I could have sworn only one home team was playing today. Oh no, there had to be four." Her frown deepened as he hurriedly changed the subject, all the while throwing a look at the back of one Canadiens fan who had happened to blow an airhorn right into his ear. He muttered rather obscene French insults under his breath much to the merriment of their underlings, a small team of ten-most wearing jerseys of varying teams and sports. Ignoring the amusement and her rather annoyed glare, Greg continued. "I should have gone with my gut instinct and scheduled that extra room in the back at that one restaurant we like so much, but _no_ we just had to go to the bar because of stinking hockey."

"Oh please, don't be a priss and pretend like you had a better idea in mind," dryly quipped the brunette woman next to him in false sympathy. For once, Tristan decided to humor him- at least for now. Only on the grounds she knew she would get her answers eventually. "We are in Canada you know, and we both know how we just _love_ our hockey." She glanced up at the closest screen, and although no emotion escaped her, she was in reality silently jeering that she was one goal closer to winning a bet from her coworker if the Senators kept at their losing streak. Contrary to what she had said though, hockey was _not_ at all her favorite sport in the world. (She much rather preferred watching her Chargers beat down on the Raiders any day of the week- hell Broncos too if she was lucky). However, hockey still had its rewards, both monetary _and_ bragging.

But that was for another time and with that she downed the rest of her drink, shaking off the burn afterwards that crept down her esophagus, waving over that rather handsome bartender for another. She had a more pressing matter at hand. "But seriously Greg- what do you mean by _partnership?"_

The man in question uneasily shuffled in his seat before reluctantly looking at her with a sheepish disposition. An almost childlike action- amusing enough, since it was reminiscent of a toddler getting caught with his hand in the jar. "I was actually joking in hopes that the matter would wait until _after_ we got back from vacation to talk about." Greg vented a feigned exasperated sigh as she folded her arms and fixed him a rather disapproving look. He snuck a look to see if she had changed her mind, and seeing she hadn't, further slumped in his chair taking another sip from his scotch, trying to hide the mock pout. "Of course not, should have known better. I must wonder if you even take breaks after work anymore." He teased with a wink.

"Yeah it's called a binge watch of _Supernatural_ with some tequila and imagining Dean Winchester buckass naked in a big tub of liquid caramel going 'lick me.' Tristan bluntly replied without so much as a blink, earning herself a choke and a cough from Greg as he had chosen the most inopportune time to take a drink. Briefly smirking, she leaned back in her seat triumphantly, humming ' _Gotcha'_ in her head _._

Her amusement died as fast as it had come though and she fixed him with a hard look. "Okay joking aside, quit stalling Greg and tell me what the hell you mean by ' _partnership_ ' _."_ She interlaced her words with a rather stern undertone meaning she seriously meant business if she didn't get what she wanted and now.

"Fine since you're being pushy and all…" Greg grumbled wiping at his mouth before running a hand through his sandy hair with a deep sigh. "I got a call from Abstergo Entertainment this morning- wishing us congratulations about our success with _La Muerta_ and all that. I won't bore you on the details, so long story short- they want us to help work on their next game." With that he pulled out his smartphone, tapping at its surface before stowing it away again. His hands now freed, he immediately occupied one again by latching it around his glass and taking a long draught from his ale as if it was needed in her presence. Jeez was she seriously that much of a handful? Her attention was pulled back as her co-founder threw a forced smile. "If you wish to look at over vacation be my guest, but give it at least a day before you say 'hell no' please?"

"Of course. So long as it has nothing to do with pirates like their last game I am fine," Tristan huffed, not appreciating how he automatically assumed she was going to say nay to the idea of another project so close to their most recent success. Barely three days, and she lost count of how many people were tapping at their smartphones trying to double jump on a moving platform. For a freshman project, it surely was paying off now.

Despite his earlier mood, Greg just chuckled while shaking his head. "From what I've read, far from it actually- think it like _Legend of Zorro_ meets _Robin Hood_ in Renaissance Europe mixed with some _Prince of Persia."_

The woman paused in her drink. "…Renaissance?" She echoed an eyebrow quirked in curiosity as she set the glass down. Much as she opposed the idea of being under the scrutinizing gaze of another _bigger_ company, _especially_ Abstergo, even she had to admit that sounded like a fun concept for a game.

"Like I said," her co-founder spread his arms with a secretive smile on his lips. "If even the tiniest bit interested just take a look over it and give me a ring- or you know wait until we get back from vacation." He couldn't help but grin at her as he continued as if explaining calculus to a bunch of brain dead students. "You know- that funny thing normal people do to get away from work."

The woman threw a rather indignant look as she huffed again, flicking some stray food particles his general direction. Without even looking away she snatched her drink, drained it, and then proceeded to slam it down while pushing herself away from the table. "Which is starting now thank you kindly," she curtly stated while grabbing her jacket and throwing it on. As she zipped up and grabbed her black canvas messenger bag, she glanced up at the TV screens briefly before nudging Greg. "Tell me how the game ends by the way; I still have a bet with Anthony that his precious team is going to flop and I very much plan on collecting my winnings this time next week."

Her only answer as she left for the front entrance was the faintest noise of an affirmation from the man. The sound quickly being swallowed as another cheer of half revelry, half groans shook the bar. Damn the Maple Leafs must be doing fantastic if they were in this much excitement. She shook her head with a laugh, before sucking it back in with one breath as the sudden drop of temperature slapped her across the face. Reluctantly the woman left the warmth and hospitality of the establishment, letting the door close with a slow yet heavy slam behind her. Adjusting to the sudden cold under the dark purple awning, she quickly flipped the hood over her already freezing ears. _Why did I move here again…?_ She rumbled burying her nose into the collar of her jacket as she reluctantly started down the street, the top of her hood quickly being hidden by a cold canvas of white. _I mean I get it I have sentimental value with the place, and it does have a better economy for my kind of job, but really I need to move back to the states already._

Briefly she thought back to her old childhood hometown of Santa Barbara, where she could get away with just wearing sweatpants and a shirt, step outside for the morning paper, and _not_ freeze to death. And good god where there was actually an amazing little hole in the wall Mexican place that served the _best_ tacos.

As Tristan walked- or more like stumbled through the thick drifts hoping to catch the last bus for the ride back home, Stan Bush yelled _"You've got the touch!"_ from her jacket. Stifling a grin and barely missing a beat, she dug around in her pocket for her _Supernatural_ obsessed iPhone. Sure enough it said 'Cat' when she checked the screen, and her grin only widened. "Gift must have finally come in," she mused out loud, swiping the screen and bringing it to her ear. "'Ello?"

" _You better be lucky you're in Canada or else I would be crushing your ribs and popping the natural pillows on your chest right about now."_

The grin she was currently wearing was seriously making her face hurt, and it only got worse as it spread even wider. "Awww I miss you too, I take it you like it?"

There was a snort before another bout of squealing of disbelief blasted into her ear. By some miracle, her hearing continued to function enough to hear her reply. " _Bitch are you kidding?! I fucking LOVE him!"_

Of course by "him" she was referring to the original Generation I die-cast Jazz from the TV show that her friend loved so much. It had taken a couple hundred bucks and late night bidding on eBay but she had gotten it in the end. Tristan was having a hard time not smiling at the sheer joy that her friend was expressing. "Haha I'm glad you do- oomph excuse me."

She threw an apologetic look sideways as the man who had just bumped into her shuffled past, muttering what sounded like a 'sorry' before trundling off, soon disappearing into the folds of the night. Of course she had to wonder- since there was so much open space around, how the bloody hell did someone still bump into her? Shrugging, she continued on her half walking, half stumbling trek to the bus stop. God she was so glad for her snow boots. "Sorry-", she put the phone back to her ear, adjusting her bag's strap. "I just bumped somebody on accident. So what's up in your neck of the woods-?"

~o~

A couple thousand miles in not-as-freezing-as-Canada-yet-still-cold Texas, a red-headed woman was doing a happy shuffling dance as she tried to multitask talking on the phone to her best friend and adjusting the newest member to her Transformers collection family. "Oh you know- the regular boring same old stuff. How's Canada?"

" _Cold. It's like eight degrees out here right now if not colder. Brr I can't feel my hands through my gloves if that tells you anything,"_ a rather annoyed brunette grumbled on the other end.

"… 'Eight degrees'? Is that Celsius or…?" If her friend thought _that_ was 'cold', she was seriously living in the wrong country. And she was about to declare it too when she was promptly cut off.

" _What?"_ Tristan confusingly asked before she emitted a quiet snort. _"Ugh no. Fahrenheit I mean. I don't know what it is otherwise- just because I live in Canada, doesn't mean jack squat dammit."_ There was a pause before a muttered _'what the hell-?'_ was heard. Probably walked in on something that was making her scrunch up her nose in either disapproval or disgust.

"Cat" otherwise known as Catherine couldn't help a quiet chuckle. "I think you should get your priorities in check then," she mused, plopping on her bed and barely resisting the urge to bounce excitedly again. She had been _dying_ to get that toy for years now, and now her friend's lateness for getting her a Christmas gift was forgiven.

"Seriously thank you Trish he's so freaking awesome," she giggled in happiness.

A crackling garble was her only response which was then followed by unnerving silence that seemed to go on and on.

She frowned as she pulled the phone away to see if she had perhaps dropped the signal at some point. Nope it said it was still connected so that couldn't be it. The redhead was slightly suspicious it was yet another prank thought up by her former roommate to fuck with her. Probably trying not to giggle on the other end.

Bitch.

She gave it only a couple minutes for her to get the laughs out, before she finally asked, "Trish are you there? Stop playing around. Trish? Tristan…?"

It was only the low moan of the wind that answered her… If only Cat knew the only signs of her friend were two footprints and a phone slowly being buried by the ever-oncoming snow.

* * *

 ***~End~***

* * *

 _Hahahaha a little boring I know, but I hope it at least warranted your attention enough to give it at least a read! ;D But I promise the next chapter is a little more exciting than this- both character and plot wise (and definitely not nearly as cold as Canada.)_

 _Also if any of you have read either of T.M. Wolf's_ Assassin's Creed Chronos or These Paths We Tread- _then you should recognize who 'Cat' exactly is. If not, then I **heavily** recommend both for their realistic takes. Though, be warned some future material of this story maaaaaaaay or may not appear in hers._

 _Who knows at this point hahah  
_

 _Anyway chica- love you and hope you liked the cameo! :3_

 _Until next time_

 _-TK_


	2. A Not-So-Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

_Oh look a wild TK appears with a new chapter! Damn work and school take too much time and priority, but I promise you the wait is worth it since this is a little more exciting than the one preceding it. Why? Well… read on and you'll find out!_

 _Ah but as a forewarning- this is my first time ever actually writing out this character- so if he seems…off at times, that's probably the reason why. I mean I do have two GREAT people to help me, yet like all writers I suffer from poor self-esteem and always doubt myself. (-prepares to get bricked-)_

 _Any errors, typos, grammar mistakes etc. please PLEASE let me know! Or else I'll spend days if not weeks constantly hunting them down after posting. (Grammar Nazi here, just ask my friends. XD)_

 _As such, none of the properties of the Assassin's Creed universe actually belong to me. I just own the plot and original character(s)._

 _And - yes if you're wondering. The chapter title is very much inspired by Queen. After careful consideration, I've decided to not go the path of outright naming all my chapters after songs. Instead I'm going down the_ Supernatural/ _witty episode route with naming my chapters. Let's see how this rolls hmm?_

 _BEFORE YOU FREAK OUT ABOUT ANYTHING- please keep in mind that when I write these things I have a lot of head canons from my own observations on what is already established canonically._

 _With that said, please do enjoy!_

 _-TK_

* * *

 **~*I*~**

 _ **A Not-So-Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy**_

* * *

Even from this distance, the tall and slender beauty had what seemed to be the loveliest of features, despite the paleness of her skin which spoke volumes of how often she left the walls of her family's palazzo. It was rather hard _not_ to look, for she stood out in such sharp contrast amongst the olive skinned city folk as the sun peeked over the red tiled houses and towers of Firenze. It certainly did not help that the brocaded gown she wore, made of green silk and woven gold with close fitting sleeves, slashed at the elbows to reveal the pale fabric underneath indicated _just_ how well off her dowry was.

Yet… for the life of him, Federico Auditore could not recollect where, or even _if_ , he had seen her before. He didn't remember those eyes, or the tightly wound auburn hair. Nor did he recall the well-accentuated figure or the face that stared at him from afar under the awning of one of the many stalls that had been set up in the market. No, he did not know any of these things, he was quite sure of that. What he _did_ know though was the faintest gleam of recognition from those sharp ivy green irises as they met his own.

Despite him not knowing or recalling her, it was rather obvious the same could not be said for the woman. She stood there amidst the small gaggle of similarly dressed individuals, all of whom were clucking and cooing over the latest goods from the farthest reaches of the known world. And much to his chagrin, as she politely excused herself and stepped out of the shade to get a better look- it was quite evident from the afterwards pause and the gradual eye-narrowing over a span of mere milliseconds, she did not look all that pleased to see _him._

 _Merda._ He couldn't help deepening the frown that had pasted itself since the first time he caught her glancing his way. An infinite amount of possibilities of what he could have done to warrant such unfair attention bounced around the inside of his head, yet no situation seemed right.

Had he left in the wee hours of the morning-?

Had he not- before he even finished the thought, he quickly shut it down with an abrupt shake of his head. That never happened so it could not certainly be _that_.

Or was it because she was one of the few who had expected something more beyond a simple tryst? It seemed at least one had grand illusions of a far-fetched future. That is if anything actually happened between them.

So… Did he accidentally take something-? No no it couldn't be that either. Yet Doubt was a fickle dame, and she whispered into his ear all the same. So, despite reassurance, it did not stop him from the action of casually patting himself down. This obviously became a fruitless search in the end- since nothing that was his magically appeared. His head snapped upwards again to find those same eyes fixed on him.

Dammit why was she _looking at him?_

Federico cursed again, this time being verbal about it as his hopes of the mysterious woman just dropping whatever the matter, (and him) altogether, went up in smoke. Apparently whatever had warranted her interest in the first place at the stall hadn't been enough, for she started to come _towards_ him. Her walk was thankfully slow, in an inquisitive step. She was still somewhat unsure, but he did not doubt it would soon become a brisk pace that spoke of someone with a single intent. One he did _not_ wish to see for himself.

"Would this not go so well with my dress?"

He didn't dare to break eye contact with the advancing woman, but his gaze fell on its own accord. At that moment the eldest son of the Auditore family had the slightest of suspicions what caused the unfamiliar dame's ire. And that was the company he currently kept: a young pretty thing with chestnut ringlets, doe-like eyes, and a trivial-like disposition. The entire time she had kept his company, he had been rather hard put to keep her focused on anything in particular, whether it was a worthless yet appealing bauble, or any of the forced compliments that he managed to get out in time when probed.

… _Such as now_ , he mused, pasting on the most charming smile he could manage as he made a pleased sound. It was a nice, though _short_ , distraction from the impending storm.

"Of course my dear, I would also say it complements your eyes," he easily replied, doing his damnedest as not to look back at the other woman to see how far she was, lest the one in his immediate presence get suspicious. In actual truth, he was lying through his teeth, since the necklace she had strung between her slender hands was anything but complimentary. Not with her dress, and especially _not_ her eyes. Yet he kept that to himself, for there was no need to have two women needlessly mad at him today.

In light of the little lie, her brightened face turned back towards the vendor- an older gentleman currently swaying the young thing into purchasing one of his many fine (cheaply made), wares. It seemed like he was succeeding at it too for now they were bartering back and forth. It was all for naught though, for it was not like she would be able to purchase it anyway.

Truthfully, it was alright with him that she had such a fickle attention span, for it was fairly easy to miss his slashing of the strings that held the carelessly dangling coin purse at her side; and it further benefited him as he afterwards tossed it to the side whilst they walked towards the market chatting amicably about boring topics he really had no interest in.

A feminine gasp of shock brought him back into the present, and he silently counted down until she formed the much expectant statement: "My purse! It's gone!"

Although crude, the missing purse in question had been nothing more than a simple back-up plan in case the situation were to sour any. What would win a woman's heart, and possible willingness to escort him to more... _private_ quarters, better than a Good Samaritan act retrieving a precious lost item? Oh he knew if Mother were to hear of this, he'd surely be smacked into oblivion. And although he would be disapproving at first, he knew his father would later clap him on the back out of view since it was an established fact he was the cleverer one between himself and baby brother.

 _As good as time as any_ , he supposed sneaking a glance sideways to the other female alarmingly closing the distance. "Perhaps it fell? I shall look around my dear-." He trailed off completely at a loss what her name was again. Shit he knew she had said it at least once… Alma? Diana? Whatever it was, he would have to improvise before acquiring her name again. " _Cara._ " Federico put his best foot forward and bowed, landing a kiss on her hand.

If she said anything of actual value, he totally missed it as he turned away and started 'looking'- only to almost bump into the woman he was trying to avoid in the first place. "Pardon me signora I-." He attempted at saying, having already prepared for a rather heated confrontation, only to have her breeze past with nary a look. His still open mouth snapped shut as he watched her go, confusion probably quite prominent on his features. Wait… So it wasn't him she was looking at? If not him then who had her angered so…?

He paused momentarily in his step, to watch her stop just short of his former companion. Not even waiting for the shorter younger one to acknowledge her, she grabbed her arm and whirled her around. "Bianca! What do you think you are doing with _that man_ _?_ " She hissed, her face flushing in barely contained vehemence.

Probably an ill time to think this, but he was certainly glad to finally discover THAT was her given name.

" _Sorella?"_ The younger one blinked owlishly, glancing his way which made him blink. Oh... Well... He supposed that explained everything then. "If you mean Ser Auditore, he's merely retrieving my coin purse-."

The older noblewoman sniffed, probably stifling the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she waved her hands as if getting rid of a troublesome fly, "Bah you are a naive fool little sister. It is of little wonder father keeps you home most of the time. The scoundrel is probably the _reason_ you lost it in the first place."

She had to stabilize herself when the younger Bianca surprisingly shoved her back, eyes flashing dangerously. "You are only spiteful Angelica because you did not manage to catch his eye first!"

"Why you little-!"

The man in question was luckily able to disappear into the noisy crowd to drown out the soon to be bickering siblings. He wished as not to be dragged into a fight unless he absolutely _had_ to. But despite knowing he shouldn't, Federico had to grin in relief, as his feet carried him to his destination. So all that time he spent worrying was for naught. Of course- it probably cost him a woman tonight. Ah dammit.

He had thrown the purse behind a couple of discarded crates in a small alleyway not far from here. And after skirting around a gathered mob listening to the local herald prattle, he rounded the corner expecting to see his prize where he left it.

So for him not to see a purse on the ground but in the hand of a bulky figure in the shadows had him immediately braking sharply. _Cazzo_. This was not what he wanted at all!

And worst still, apparently the sound of his approach had been loud enough for the hooded person to hear, for the figure froze and snapped his head his way in surprise.

No. Not a he as Federico looked into the confines of the hood.

It was a _she._

Yes from under the hood, a woman looked back at him, her slim dark eyebrows high in shock. Obvously having been startled as much as he. Her skin tone, what little he could see contrasting against the shadows, was not nearly as olive as his own people, but still a dark creme that spoke of a Spanish heritage which stood out amongst some of the fairer foreigners he had come across in the past.

The eyes that stared back at him reminded Federico of the color of clouds before an oncoming spring rain- the ones that caught the sun on their underbellies and turned into a blue silver. Although they were lightly tinted now, he had no doubt if given enough cause they would probably turn as dark as a brooding thunderstorm. Yet at the moment, they were wary and anxious with the slightest sense of curiosity as she straightened, still with his prize in hand.

Despite his initial shock, he still expected the rather oddly dressed woman to run with his ticket to good graces, even going so far as to brace himself in case she did. Rude? Perhaps. Even if she was pretty, it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides if she was like most, it was not like she was going to notice the shifting of feet really.

Federico had thought himself subtle in his actions, having never taken his eyes, or warm smile, off of her, yet a slim eyebrow rose nonetheless before those grey irises snapped towards the purse in her gloved hand and then back to him. Perhaps he was mistaken, but he sensed the tiniest dawning of revelation off her person.

"Is this yours?"

The elder Auditore paused in confusion, honestly having not expected her to speak. He faintly acknowledged that the language she spoke was English. Understandable, yet the dialect was… odd to say the least.

"Par…don?" It sounded quite strange hearing the word coming out of his mouth. Every unfamiliar syllable refusing to roll off his tongue properly. Damn if he would have known he would be using the cumbersome language in the immediate future to speak with a woman, he would have definitely paid more attention to his father's lessons.

There was a small vent of sound before her lips pursed into a confused frown. "Is this," he was certainly relieved to hear a more familiar language as she slowly started to repeat herself, this time emphasizing the purse with a stabbing of her finger and then him, a look betwixt annoyance and exasperation prominent on her features. "Yours?"

While again her Italian rang with a strange vernacular, it was much easier this time to form a response. Although, he wouldn't say it was intimidation that made him pause… just wariness. She didn't _look_ like much, being tiny and all but… well from experience, looks could be most deceiving. "And if I said yes?"

She cocked her head studying him, as if unsure before her lips suddenly quirked into a smirk, amused. It was quite evident she knew he wasn't confirming that it was actually his, yet went with it anyway as she brought her hand up to scrutinize the somewhat filled bag in her hand, as the other landed on her hip. "Then I would have to question your sense of fashion if I wasn't already," hummed the woman before she tossed it up and caught it again. "Lace is not your style I'm afraid and just does _not_ match that color scheme you're sporting."

"What do you mean _my '_ sense of fashion'?" Federico could not help but scoff , throwing a hand her way to indicate the… whatever she was wearing. Honestly he was at a loss of words as to what she wore. For starters, the black sheathing that spread across her torso and shoulders looked like an oversized robe falling just above the knees, yet made of such unusual fabric that made it both shiny and smooth. He also noted with bewilderment that it made the _oddest_ of sounds when she shifted any. Regardless of that though, he still had a strange urge to poke it to see if perhaps it was some type of new armor never seen before, but resisted knowing that wouldn't be appreciated.

Not by her for being poked, And certainly not by _him_ if she decided it was enough of an excuse to smack him.

Even the trousers and boots she wore were made with unique materials he had no words or adjectives for, beyond that of colors. Yes she was indeed a very strangely dressed woman. With a snort he crossed his arms looking her up and down again. "Clearly you have not looked in a mirror anytime recently," he remarked, questioning just who let her walk out in that.

Surprisingly, as opposed to the flustered blush most ladies he knew would acquire before apologizing for their lack of decency; she fixed him with a dirty look, huffing softly under her breath as she proceeded to yank off her gloves and shove them into the strange haversack at her side. He found it slightly amusing- and somewhat satisfying his prediction came true. Her eyes _did_ change colors."This is coming from the man who is wearing tights and a shirt he has the inability to button up all the way _,"_ she dryly commented and he couldn't help but pout as he glanced downwards at his attire. What was she talking about? This was standard Florentine fashion. Besides that, he didn't wear tight pants…

In one deft move, the hood of her… robe-thing was pushed back and suddenly a waterfall of dark wavy tresses pooled out on either side of her rounded face. Shaking her head to dislodge any stray strands, she again fixed him with a pointed stare. This time with eyes of glinted silver. _"_ So excuse me if I wished to stay warm while it was _snowing_. _"_

Any retort or witty remark he had on mind dissolved as he just… stared. "Snowing?" He echoed, slightly bewildered as she jerked her head in a stiff nod. It was rude of him he knew, but he couldn't help but stare. He was just so confused by her words. While it wasn't rare for snow to fall in Firenze, it certainly wasn't common either. As opposed to what the foreigner described, it hadn't snowed anytime recently. So he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as the woman looked around with a slight frown as if just realizing the ground was barren of any heaps of white and brown slush.

Federico briefly wondered if the woman had hit her head any. She _was_ muttering to herself and there _were_ red streaks that stood out amongst her dark hair. Perhaps it was blood from a blow to the head? It would explain much. Or no… He slightly narrowed his eyes with a frown, tilting his head in curiosity. No the more he looked at them, the more he realized they were too symmetrical... Too straight, not clumped or matted like a wound. No, he concluded, it was much too perfect to be a malady or an accident.

It certainly begged the intriguing question then- was it the result of a cruel prank or did that mean she had done it on purpose?

He mentally shook his head and the thought away. Much as Federico's growing curiosity wished it wasn't, he was here for an actual purpose. It was rather sad, for this newcomer seemed a most intriguing lady and if it were other times, he'd be wishing to know more.

Yet he was an Auditore- a man of his word to his dying breath, even if the sole reason for his being here may or may not be there once he returned to the market.

So, time to get back on the subject at hand. He coughed into his hand politely, pasting on the easiest of smiles to bring her attention back to him. "My apologies, I hope that you will come to forgive me, but as you are probably well aware- that is not mine. Instead, it belongs to a friend that I think will like it back." He extended an experimental hand out, palm facing upwards, absently wondering if this was to be the time she would choose to run. He would certainly hate to tackle someone so small as her. Yet he didn't let his doubt show, smiling all the same. "If I can have it back, I, and my companion, would be most grateful."

Now it was her turn to blink as her gaze fell to the purse and then back up to him, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks. It seemed she had been so focused on verbally lashing him, she had forgotten what was in her possession. "Oh yeah sorry of course-" Without so much as a blink, the purse left her hand and plopped on his own. "I just hope she's worth the effort of stealing from."

Federico had barely uttered a 'thank you', when his statement of gratitude came to a stuttering stop as he gawked. _How-?_ This time though, his staring was rather brief and he was already laughing, shaking his head. "I... What? No I think you have my intentions mistaken…"

Much as he tried to avoid it that had sounded guilty even to his own ears. What was worse was the warm feeling of embarrassment and shame spreading on his cheeks that further disproved his innocence. He opened his mouth to try again. To say something, _anything_ to argue his case but the raised eyebrow, and fixed stare on her face said everything. His jaw snapped shut. He did not know how, but somehow she just… _knew_.

He immediately grew suspicious. Had this woman been watching him? Did she have some kind of malicious intent? For him? For his family? Briefly he let the world turn into the neutral ground of greys and blacks, and focused rather intently on the woman. Surprisingly, the light blue emitting off the woman across from him was opposite of what he was expecting. Odd... But his Sight hadn't failed him yet, so warily he blinked away the vision with a set frown. If she had noticed anything strange, such as brighter than normal eyes, she didn't let anything show, yet he had his doubts. So very carefully he voiced his next question, fixing her with a studious glance. "What makes you so sure I stole it?"

Another quirk of the lips was his response before a light chuckle escaped her. "I don't think. I _know_ you didn't steal from her." She scratched her chin with a hum. "Or at least you didn't steal for the money."

She waved the thought away with another chuckle. "But either way, I noticed right away those strings were frayed, meaning someone cut them. So… by my guess one of three things occurred." She put three fingers up and started counting them down as she continued: "Either a rookie with butterfingers dropped it while on the run, you paid someone to make it look like a rookie dropped it so you can be the hero, or you did it yourself. If I didn't know any better it was because whoever this belonged to wasn't exactly going according to your plan?"

Before he could come up with an excuse or something, both of her hands came up in a calming motion, expressing an amused smile. "Relax though, I won't tell anybody your little secret. I'm not that type of person to begin with- and besides I would be lying if I said I wouldn't have done it myself. Except the only difference is," she paused with a wink tossing. " _I_ would have gotten away with it."

Well… that was… a most unexpected response. No chastising. No pinching of the ear. No threatening to tell someone. In fact… the exact opposite of what he had been expecting happened. This revelation was a pleasant, welcoming surprise and Federico couldn't help but quirk a slight grin of his own. The curiosity that been starting to smolder was being given tinder again. It couldn't be helped. He knew personally that sometimes, if not most of the time that was dangerous territory to tread, but right at this moment he was too intrigued to care.

Seeing he no longer had to worry if she was going to take off with Bianca's coinpurse or not, (he congratulated himself on remembering her name finally), he managed to loosen up some, even leaned up against the side of the alley glancing her way. "Should I ask as to how you know such things?" He asked, mostly teasing, yet slightly hoping she'd supply an answer.

Unfortunately, much to his disappointment a secretive smile was all he acquired as she slyly winked. "Sorry to be a party pooper, but surely you'd understand that a woman must keep her secrets?"

Federico suddenly found himself with the urge to poke her robe again, but not to see if it was made of armor. Oh no, it was more to see how she would react. Would this spitfire actually smack him? Or would she do something completely unexpected like before? Mostly he was just curious of how dark he could get those eyes to turn.

He hummed at the thought eyeing her. She was rather attractive he had to admit, what little he actually saw of her. He also knew she was dangerously fascinating, and with every movement he was finding himself being drawn more and more to her. "In more ways than one-" he started to say with a smirk, unsure if she got the double meaning of not, before a metallic ripping sound drew his attention back to her weird robe as she split it open. She then proceeded to slip out of it, revealing a dark grey chemise that hugged her surprising well endowed figure far more than the robe did. She had enough curves where he had to force himself to continue focusing on her face. No need pissing off two women today.

"Indeed." She laughed with that probably iconic sly grin of hers as she looked up at him, tucking the folded robe under her arm. She tilted her head again with a hum glancing around. For a brief moment there was a frown, but it soon disappeared again as she looked back at him."Well it's been a pleasure, but I think it's time for us to separate now." She paused to brush a strand of her tinted hair back. "We both have places to be right?"

Federico vented a sigh and reluctantly nodded. Sadly so. He did have an article of possession to give back... If she was there that is. "We do indeed."

"Oh you'll be fine," she barked a laugh, suddenly clapping a hand on his shoulder. In total shock of having his non-existent personal space being invaded, he looked at her sharply in return with a raised eyebrow. She must have read the action wrong for she immediately pulled her hands back in a 'sorry' motion. "But if you want encouragement- good luck?"

He put on a thinking face before grinning. "Mmm... you know, I actually _would_ prefer a kiss of good luck, but I do not see that happening now do I?" It was nothing more than a jest, and she probably knew that, but... he did have a slight hope she would be willing to do so anyway.

That was dashed as soon as he saw the flash of something appear in those irises, before she rolled them and started on her way out of the alley. "In your dreams lover boy," came the biting retort which made him laugh out loud.

She had said she had hoped that the purse was worth the effort in the end. Well it was probably safe to say, as Federico tied the lacy purse to his belt with a contemplative hum, it most certainly had been.

* * *

 **~* End*~**

* * *

 _Ahhhh Federico is something else no?_

 _Reviews are like cookies._

 _Also- shout out to my twinsies Captain Alice Hook and T.M. Wolf for helping me out like a boss! You should read their respective_ Assassin's Creed Firewall _and_ Assassin's Creed Chronos

 _Next chapter should not take as long so until next time!_

 _-TK_


	3. Extraordinary Girl

" _Not so long" I say. Almost_ _ **five**_ _months later- x'D Primus I'm so sorry. Adulting is hard, I suck at multitasking, and you want to talk about a horrible self-esteem when it comes to writing. (This is nothing really new I suppose). On top of going to Vegas with my two best friends, T.M Wolf and Captain Alice-Hook, I graduated with my Associate's! And got a new cat! Rescued him from the evil clutches of a minivan's engine block and gave him a home. Now he's being a little brat, spoiled as can be, and romping around just like his namesake, Rico! Or "Federico Pouncitore da Furenze" as I like to jokingly call him hahaha._

 _Anyway- I really hope you enjoy this chapter! (Because it had been such a pain.) As a head's up, give the last one a read again since I spotted errors and decided to add things. Damn Grammar Nazism *shakes fist*_

 _Without further ado- here's the next chapter of AC: Nemesis!_

 _-TK_

* * *

 **~*II*~**

 _ **Extraordinary Girl  
**_

* * *

Subsequently setting himself on the path he had suddenly chosen, Federico found it truly wasn't difficult to trail the enigmatic figure. Even with the strange piece of garment having been removed from her immediate person and tucked under her arm, she still stood out like a sore thumb no thanks to her strangely streaked hair. And he wasn't the only one to notice, since other bystanders normally hurrying home, were stopping with pinched looks and making not-so-subtle comments that expressed their scandalized shock and utter distaste.

Why? Oh probably because, like him, they had never seen such things before.

Not her bizarre robe, not the dark boots that looked too thick and bulky for the cobblestone streets of Florence, and especially not thosedark-colored trousers that shouldn't even be that body forming on a woman in the first place. He shouldn't be interested. Absolutely not in the slightest, since he had other matters to attend to- but dammit he couldn't help it. Everything with this woman was new to him. The way she dressed and acted. The way she talked, held herself, Hell even the way she _walked_ was totally unalike anything he was introduced to. And how she did it with such confidence too!

Thinking on it, the closest comparisons he had at hand to this brazen lady were the two women in his family. Although even the Auditore matriarch followed the guidelines set out by their own society and would have probably clucked her tongue at the lack of form. Not to mention Claudia would probably snipe about the woman being so _unlady_ like _._ (Which, in a way was hypocritical, but that was another subject for another time.)

Yet, either unaware of the attention she was acquiring, or wholly ignoring the stares and whispers as she went, this woman was doing it all the same. Bianca's purse bounced off his hip as he followed, gently brushing past gawking spectators. It was rather sad to say, he didn't have to strain his keener hearing to catch some of the more stunned remarks as he passed:

"Is she…?

"…. wearing men's clothes..?"

"Who in their right minds let her out like _that_ …?"

" _Disgraceful."_

On that last note, Federico found himself having to bite his tongue to keep his opinion from being expressed. There was no need to cause more trouble today than it was actually worth. However that did not mean he liked it in the slightest. _Surely you all have better things to do than to construct a running commentary on a woman you've never met before?_ Of course, at risk of being accused a hypocrite, he would not lie and say he did not do it too. He did it earlier as a matter of fact, but unlike the criticizing populace before him, he didn't damn her for such things, for realistically, did it actually _matter_ what one wore? It frankly made him astounded that such pettiness existed in the world. For all the work his father, uncle, and forefathers did, seemingly little had actually changed for the greater good. But then again, glancing around the common people with a contemplative brow; all the sacrifices made over the years granted these petty people the choice to be so.

He was drawn back into reality with a sucked in breath, fighting the urge to growl a pained string of insults. Such was the price of freedom of choice apparently, for one such critical gawker managed to step on his foot not just once but _twice._ And it did not take an expert to realize the shoes hidden under the pale red gown were a pair of those exotic _zoccoli_ that made women taller than they actually were. Something he found out quite a few times, disappointingly enough. Looking back now, one would _think_ it would be quite obvious they were wearing something ungodly if it meant they couldn't walk on their own.

"Pardon me," he stated with forced courtesy to the startled noblewoman, ignoring his smarting appendage despite the slight limp he now had as he finally succeeded in getting out of the tangled snarl that was the Florentine mob- probably making their way back home from the markets. Luckily it seemed to be tapering off into smaller contingents now, enough where he could actually breathe somewhat fresh air.

Despite Federico's blending into the crowd though- just like how father taught him- every now and then his quarry would briefly glance back with a pinched brow. Or stop at a stall and act like she was perusing through the wares, when in reality her eyes were always roving. He had nearly blown his cover the first time he saw her do it, but thankfully at the last minute ducked behind some crates while keeping an ear out for curse-laden accusations. None ever came though and as a result of his diving under cover, he almost lost her if it weren't for the fact she paused to adjust the bag at her side. Fast forward some, and the eldest born now knew she hadn't actually _seen_ him, since he never witnessed her grey eyes truly locking onto him. He couldn't necessarily explain the sensation- yet he just knew she was in knowledge of being trailed, however didn't know just exactly _who_ the pursuer was.

Which was… quite peculiar to say the least if he said so himself Most were too focused on their own two feet to notice their surroundings or fellow people, much less someone following them. At least that was the impression he received from his lessons out in the city with father.

To see such careful attention though, as he slipped into another group without her even batting an eye, from a woman of all things- he had to ask himself, _again_ , just who was she? Knowing the difference between frayed and torn purse strings? Only someone experienced with thieving would have knowledge of such things. So… did that mean she was one? Or formerly? She _had_ spoken about getting away with the deed if she had done it. But that could have just been a joke. Or maybe his earlier assessment was true and she had _actually_ hit her head, and now he was just following a deluded woman.

Wouldn't _that_ just be his luck?

While not having many answers to his building throng of questions, he did distinguish one thing about the strange woman; she was quite out of her element. Or at least… it seemed that way. Along with her usual stopping to sneak a glance behind, every few meters she would stop, look around with a possible frown on her angular face, (he could not really tell, given her back was to him during this entire process), and then afterwards resume her brisk pace just to do it all over again on the next block.

If he did not know any better, after seeing this go on for a while, these were most certainly the telltale signs of someone lost, and after the rather memorable encounter earlier it was a rather amusing notion.

"Hey!"

Federico blinked at both the voice and sudden halting of his forward motion in the form of a bump. This resulted in the seemingly earth-shattering sound of breaking wood, being followed by whatever valuables were stored within. His hurried apology to the rapidly reddening man was immediately drowned out by his curse laden shouting that started attracting far too much attention from the surrounding crowd. He felt exposed- naked even since so many piercing eyes were looking their way. He just hoped that this was the extent of his punishments for not paying enough attention, as he made himself scarce to evade the brunt of the verbal, and possibly soon to be physical, lashing.

As he managed to slip into another moving group, being quick, he cast a look around for his prey to check her progress. The last he had seen of her, was when she was starting to cross the threshold of Santa Trinita. He came to a grinding halt however, at finding her red-streaked hair nowhere in immediate sight.

Fearing the worst, he couldn't help but frown as he did another scan of the mingled crowd; on the tiniest chance he missed the woman during the first precursory glance. However after coming across a similar result, he let out the not so silent curse he had been holding back since running into the man earlier. "Fool!"Federico berated himself with a hiss as he smacked a hand to his face, dragging it down. Thanks to his previous entanglement with the box carrier, it seemed rather likely he had botched the one chance he had at talking to this woman just a bit more, since what are the chances that he would be able to find her again? And thinking about it, _if_ he ran into her again, he _needed_ to get a name. For it was starting to get rather old referring to her as "the mysterious woman with red streaks in her hair."

All was not lost however- he _still_ had one trick up his sleeve; and for what felt like the thousandth time, Federico was extremely thankful for his ability. It most certainly helped in situations similar to his current predicament- whether it was trying to locate Ezio who thought himself so bloody clever in his hiding games, or a slippery woman he was too damn interested about for his own good.

If mother were here, she'd probably call it 'infatuation.'

After so many years of practice, he was proud to say it only took him an intense focus to descend into that eerie realm of greys and shapes that were interspersed with the occasional vibrant aura of blue or red. While it was alarming to see so much red- probably Pazzi underlings up to no good yet again- he was intent on finding that one bit of gold within the masses.

"Can I help you with something?"

It honestly hadn't dawned on him to look behind him, since his original skimming caught nothing out of interest besides an already closed merchant's shop leaning up against some leftover scaffolding. Reminiscing on the choice briefly, perhaps he should have taken a closer look.

But for now, there was a sense of grey-tinted vertigo as he whirled around, followed by bright gold painfully lancing his eyes. As a result he rapidly shook his head, temporarily blinded. When he opened his eyes again, his vision was luckily somewhat back to normal, although occasionally being peppered with lights that danced across his sight.

He had recognized that voice- and soon found the source of it leaning against one of the posts that supported the otherwise unstable looking scaffolding. He had the right mind to suggest she should move, but thought against it. She looked fairly annoyed, and certainly not at all approving he was here. No need to give her an invitation to be further irritated at him.

Thus he tried his best to look like he hadn't been startled, and that he was innocent of anything suspicious by pasting on an easy smile. "Ah yes…" What could he say to that? For once he actually found himself struggling for a witty comeback to that. The eldest Auditore could not _seriously_ be having this issue right now. "Could I have your name?"

…. _Dio,_ he mentally smacked himself afterwards. Did he just pull his _brother?!_

In response she pursed her lips, before reaching behind her into the covered stall she had apparently jumped into to keep out of view- obviously _his_ view to be precise. Smart. "Righttttt, she drawled. "How about no?"

It had been a long shot, but still he found himself pouting- an expression he quickly put away again when she turned back around slipping her bag back over her shoulder. "Why not?" It took all his willpower not to make that sound like a complaint, and apparently it still hadn't worked given the deadpan expression on her face.

She placed her odd robe on one hip while the other was occupied by her hand, an eyebrow rising in incredulity. "Uhm… I would think it obvious? I don't give my names to unnamed strangers _and_ I barely met you just five minutes ago."

That was fair he supposed, although not _quite_ the answer he desired. Still, he could roll with that, and in an undoubtedly exaggerated motion he smacked a hand to his head as if he had forgotten something-in this case his name. "Bah forgive my lack of manners _signora!_ I am Federico Auditore da Firenze." He managed as not to rush his form as he bowed, afterwards taking her hand to kiss it. He was faintly surprised to find it so calloused. An oddity amongst noble women to be sure.

"Charmed," she politely replied, even though her eyes did not approve of such a greeting. Much to her credit though, she didn't yank her hand out of his grasp when he loosened his hold on it. Maybe she wasn't a noblewoman, but she looked to have some courtesy. _Some,_ he emphasized. Not much. Especially given her response. "Quite the mouthful though. I hope you honestly don't expect me to say all that?"

He could not for the life of him put his finger on it, but _something_ in her grey eyes made him stifle the urge to respond with something less than appropriate, yet at the same time risk the consequences and do it anyway. _"_ Just Federico is fine, miss-?" He left that last bit open for her to finish. Sadly, his attempt at baiting her failed as she threw her head back and laughed. She had a twinkle in her eye as she focused on him again. "Okay, your name is a start yes, but that still doesn't mean you're getting mine quite yet."

This time he allowed his pout to show. There must have been something else to all of this if she was continuing to be adamant about it. "Have I given you a reason to mistrust me so?"

He watched as a dry smile crept across her lips, "Oh besides cutting a lady's purse, then preceding to clonk me on top of the head with it, followed by _stalking_ me?" Her face fell as she deadpanned again. "No. Not at all."

"I… what?" Federico sputtered in disbelief, not sure if he heard that right. Yet... now that she mentioned it, he _had_ noticed her rubbing a particular spot on the side of her head. So… in a way, he supposed he was right. She _had_ hit her head- but by _his_ hand. He mentally winced at that tidbit- for in truth he hadn't bothered to look before tossing the laced accessory into the alley.

But he wasn't given much of a stretch to apologize, for she sent the purse which was still at his side, a very pointed look. "Speaking of- weren't you _supposed_ to give that back to the poor woman?"

"And if she truly wishes to have it back, she will wait. If not, she has plenty more of coin to choose from out of her father's coffers." He shrugged; slightly uncaring about the former prospects he had hope for. Even after having gone through the effort of 'retrieving' the woman's coin purse to begin with.

Surprisingly.

Somehow _un_ surprisingly, an expected cynical smile distorted her lips. "Quite the gentleman aren't you?" As sharp as the jab was, he still pasted his most courtly smile. Obviously he had been taught manners at his mother's behest. _Especially_ when it came to socializing with the womanly. It was why he was such a favorite compared to his baby brother afterall- but that did _not_ mean he would back down from a clearly declared challenge. So he had no doubt there was a mischievous gleam to his own eyes as he countered, purposely failing at hiding his own humor. "Since I am willing to help a lost _unnamed_ lady find her way, I fancy to think so."

Immediately her expression soured as she hotly expressed her distaste to such a statement, "I am not lost." He amusingly noted there was a faint flush on her cheeks despite the disapproving scowl and furrowed brows. Either from embarrassment or indignation, it was rather cute he certainly had to admit. Entertained, he wordlessly crossed his arms, a single brow rising in an 'oh really' manner. Honestly. Did she genuinely expect him to believe such words?

Allegedly she had, for the annoyed expression never left her face as she too crossed her arms in an unspoken defiance. "I'm not," she insisted before gesturing around with a hand. "I've been here before, I'm sure of it-." She trailed off, flinty eyes narrowing, obviously irritated that the amusement had not faded from his eyes. He suddenly found himself cross-eyed when she stabbed a finger in his face. "Don't give me that look Mister Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Was-."

"Auditore," he interjected rather unfazed by the digit trying to bury itself in his nose; the entertained smile that was plastered on his face growing, despite what seemed like temptation to strangle him displaying across her features.

And he was delighted to see she didn't miss a step herself, throwing a very nasty look as she dropped a hand. "-yes that. And I'll have you know I am quite aware of where I am-." She faltered again when she saw he was not buying it. However, whatever pride she still possessed refused to admit he was in the right. So it was only understandable they had a staring contest for all of five seconds before her shoulders slumped and head dropped with reluctant huff. "Fine… maybe I am lost." She crossed her arms, glaring burning holes at him. A proud woman to the end it appeared. "You can wipe that smirk off your lips now _Federico_."

Nevertheless, he couldn't help it. Honestly. She was a feisty vixen and her veiled threat as she said his name was nothing short of adorable.

However despite the urge of further teasing and poking this woman to see how she would react, Federico decided to be merciful _just_ this one time. They both knew he had won this round. No point rubbing it in further- even if it _was_ tempting. Alternatively, he put on his most sympathetic look while spreading his hands out in what he hoped was a placating gesture. "It is nothing to be ashamed about signora. It happens to even the best of us."

When he saw she wasn't going to react outside of another indignant huff, (at least right away), he continued. "Where are you trying to go? Who knows- I could direct you to it." He sincerely hoped she wasn't one of the few women who mistook his sincerity as mockery. Yes, he would be the first to admit he liked to tease. But when it came to actually helping those in need? Federico was _always_ genuine with his offered help. And this woman, fiery temper aside, was absolutely no exception. He just hoped his earlier comments hadn't tainted her impression of him, making her take his offered assistance the wrong way.

So it was with great relief when the sharp glance she had fixed him with, softened to an apprehensive eyeing. He knew she didn't necessarily trust him, and really, why would she? He had- ah, what was the word she had used again? Ah right, _stalked._ "…Alright." She slowly said, stiff shoulders loosening up some giving her a far more relaxed look. "I guess you could help me by telling me what city this is?"

That made him pause, an eyebrow rising. She wasn't even aware of where she was? He didn't even think before blurting, "You mean to tell me you have never been to Florence before?"

Now it was her turn to stare, any fire or sassy remark having died as she studied him with an incredulous expression. She had apparently not been expecting such an answer given how she paled. "Florence? As in... Italy?" She slowly asked in disbelief.

Federico nodded slowly, wondering if something was the matter. "Yes." Really, what other Florence was there?

Her eyebrows furrowed as she brushed a strand of dark hair behind an ear. "Huh, that… explains a lot then." Briefly he caught a glimpse of something dark on her neck, but it disappeared from view as the woman's hair fell back against her neck. A birthmark maybe?"To answer your earlier question…" He was drawn back to the conversation at hand when she started talking again. "Quite the opposite actually, I _have_ been to Florence before. Twice."

She looked around, eyebrows drawn in somewhat recognition. "The last time was little over three years ago. So it was quite recently- yet…" A dubious frown formed on her lips. "It seems to have changed since then." Before he could comment, her eyes went heavenwards, and she looked somewhat taken back, a sharp intake of breath following suit. "I especially don't remember Il Duomo looking so… _new_."

Becoming more and more confused the more she spoke, Federico followed her gaze towards the east, where indeed the magnificent cathedral that was the Santa Maria del Fiore stood. 'Baffled' did not at all explain what he was feeling right now. 'New'? How? It was a little over forty years old now. How could it suddenly look newer now than the last she had been was three years ago…?

He turned back around only to find that the woman had started pacing, again muttering to herself. He wondered if this was a common thing for her. Or was it just a result of her getting hit in the head?

"…Suppose it makes sense that Greg and Carol would roofie my drink and drop me off in bloody fucking Italy. Amidst Renaissance Faire weekend of all things!" There was a pause which had her looking around with a suspicious eye before resuming her short path back and forth. "Bah, a rather unfair plan of revenge. Whatever, they're bloody lucky I found someone who spoke English even though he's kind of no help whatsoever-."

It was obvious he was not supposed to hear any of this half crazed muttering, so of course he was confused by ever other word that came out of her mouth. 'Renaissance Faire'? What was that? Him speaking English- since when? What was she even going on about? Wisely though, he kept quiet, acting as if he was not hearing a single word of this in spite of the desire to ask if she was well again. By this point he was very much convinced that this lady, despite what she said earlier, had hit her head on something much harder than a thrown coin purse.

What else would explain this erratic behavior?

"-Fucking bastards better pray I'm in a better mood when I get out of here. If I can that is." She paused midway in her tangent, suddenly looking sheepish as she refocused on him. _Finally remembered I was here did you?_ He mused keeping his expression impassive just so he would not give her a hint he had actually heard of all that... whatever that was.

She rubbed the back of her head, appearing embarrassed if not unsure about what to say next. "…just… out of curiosity- do you by any chance have a phone? I need to make a call."

He was never given an opportunity to reply, or even ask what a 'phone' was, before she waved her hands to stop him, looking embarrassed in the process. "Shit never mind that, I couldn't ask of you to break out of character. Silly me let's just go with a better question- what is today's date?"

"December twenty-seventh," Federico replied without hesitation, pushing aside his lingering doubts and confusion. However he was still more than tempted to ask what a _phone_ was, or why she thought he was acting.

But it wasn't his place though, thus he stayed mum.

He would have been lying though if he said it didn't bring him somewhat satisfaction to see a smile brighten her face slightly, even if it was of relief. It honestly was none of his business what was going on at the moment, whatever the woman's strife may be. He just found himself wishing she would smile more often, for he found her far more endearing that way.

"Yeah good... good only been a day went by." She ran a hand through her hair again, letting out a short laugh. "Same year too?"

He shared her humor with a chuckle, shrugging in the process. "From my understanding, yes, it's still 1476."

Federico expected a laugh or another amused smile, but instead he acquired a rather puzzled face from the still nameless woman. And… something else that he had not been expecting with that answer.

Unease.

He suddenly worried if perhaps he had said or did something wrong. He was about to ask what, and how he could help when a loud commotion made itself known behind them. Whooping, and hollering that sounded familiar and it made him stiffen as he went to glance over his shoulder. How he wished he wasn't right…

 _Pazzi_.

Federico couldn't help but curl a lip in disgust as he watched them caper across the square, obviously in quite the mood given how they were shoving each other playfully and all. One would _think_ with the serious allegations against Francesco, they'd be more willing to stay out of the public's view until it blew over. But of course not- that would have been far too easy. For in reality, it seemed to have given the little shit and his lackeys all the more reason to slander his family's name further.

Oh there were a great many names he could use to describe Vieri de'Pazzi, and none of them were remotely suitable in the presence of such company he was currently graced with.

…or at least _had_ been graced with, he discovered when he turned back around to find no such woman in sight. Huh- quite the slippery woman wasn't she? Still recovering from the headache caused by the hiccup earlier, Federico only did a cursory scan and found no sign whatsoever.

He now found himself torn between two choices- investigate what was going on or to go after the woman who had disappeared suddenly. She had looked extremely terrified and he found himself wishing to help... But then again if the Pazzi were converging…

With a reluctant sigh, he let her be, turning the direction where the unruly group had disappeared. Whoever she was, and whatever the issue she had, he had a hunch she could handle it, shortness aside. For now though, he set that aside in favor to focus at the task at hand; there was only _one_ reason such a large group would form, and he had to sigh in mock exasperation as he followed after, picking up the pace as not to lose them, despite having the suspicion about where they were heading.

On the way he managed to find Bianca, surprisingly still waiting for him to return. No longer in the mood he had been in before running into the other mysterious lady, he dropped the purse in her hands and bid her the politest goodbye before departing again.

Federico was not even surprised to find the end result a little while later- Ezio and some of their mutual friends brawling with Vieri and _his_ pawns. Another sigh escaped him in the process of shaking his head, a quirk to his lips as he moved to enter the fray alongside his sibling. Not without asking though…

"What did you do _now_ baby brother?"

* * *

 **~*End*~**

* * *

 _Again I apologize for the long wait, I would have posted this yesterday, but a stupid tree limb falling on our back fence took far more priority unfortunately. BUT I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless._

 _I also apologize for any OOCness- still getting used to writing from this man's POV- but don't worry next chapter is from Trish's side!_

 _Shout out to Swiftstone for letting me borrow Carol. (Sorry no Edward ;()_

 _And like always, reviews, watches, and favorites ALWAYS make my day! As a side note- if you spot any, kindly point out any grammar/spelling mistakes? It's appreciated really :)_

 _Anyway, until next time!_

 _-TK_


	4. Dazed and Confused

_I…. have no excuses, so I'll make none. However, much has changed in the year and a half that has gone by. I've moved from the West Coast to the Midwest since I am officially a University student pursuing a Sociology Major, after having acquired two Associate's, I've fallen back in love with Mass Effect. (Screw the haters, Andromeda was freaking awesome). And well yeah… shit happened._

 _Right so enough about me. This chapter I realize is probably shorter than you wanted, but I struggled slightly to make this as believable as possible while also maintaining my character's…. flair, I suppose. Still don't feel like it is, but eh whatever._

 _Assassin's Creed and its properties do NOT belong to me. I'm just a college student who wishes she could._

 _Without further ado, enjoy!_

 _-TK_

* * *

~ ***III*~**

 _ **Dazed and Confused**_

* * *

 **May 20th, 2012 Santa Barbara, California**

"You know…. I think you should consider traveling more."

One of Tristan's slim eyebrows found itself in a cocked position at the random, if not odd assertion. It only rose further as her friend slash co-worker pushed one of those fancy Moleskin notebooks across the only table in the breakroom. Another gift? Okay, her birthday wasn't for another two months and four days.

"Oh…?" She drawled, sipping her afternoon caramel latte from a Lannister themed cup.

Across from her, frowning, sat Jemma Hartwell.'Jem'to her friends, _Jemmy_ to Tristan— much to the younger woman's chagrin.

"Don't you _'Oh'_ me missy, you know it's true. I only see you going to three different places: here, home, and that coffee place down the street," Tristan watched in amusement as Jemma narrowed her eyes with each word, counting off the destination with her fingers.

The brunette was silent as she perused the palm-sized orange jotter. Her eyebrow again rising. This time a sly grin made a guest appearance. "Uncomfortable thought of being stalked aside, you… _do_ realize I traveled across the entire spans of Europe before I was thirteen, right?"

Jemma scowled, rolling her brown eyes. "Yes, because of your father's occupation that you never really told me of, I know —"

"— And that I lived in Granada _and_ Florence as a foreign exchange student for a combined six months studying for college?" Tristan's grin grew, leaning on her elbow.

"As you like to remind me often enough yes—" Jemma stopped mid-sentence to fix Tristan a dark look, stabbing a finger her way and then downwards. "Interrupt me one more time and I'll take back all my gifts, starting with that cup you seem to cherish so much. I still got the receipt for that you know, so I suggest you zip it."

Tristan clamped both her mouth and snarky comeback shut with a huff, but not without sticking her tongue out in a last bit of defiance. Whether it was an empty threat or not, she felt it was best to not tempt it.

As if reading her mind, a triumphant grin snuck its way across Jemma's face as she dropped her hand. "Good girl, _now_ as I was saying," the woman steepled her hands together. " _I know_ you traveled a lot as a kid—you told me repeatedly remember? That's great and all, and I'm happy for you. But that was then, what about _recently_ _?"_

Tristan tried her best as not to make a face. Alright, she'd admit it, Jemma hit it on the head. It _had_ been awhile She supposed it was one of the leading reasons as to why her and her cohorts decided to try their luck in Montreal when it came to their fledging studio, besides the friendlier environment for newcomers in the game making business. Mmm… perhaps a vacation _was_ in order. Of course, after they finished their current project of course since they were on a rather tight schedule right now.

Wholly ignoring her friend's suddenly absent stare, Jemma continued with what sounded like a future lecture."Look, Trish, just… hear me out. You _just_ graduated with your MBA, and now in the process of moving to Canada to pursue your dream job… Which is, don't get me wrong, _awesome_. But… really, all you are doing now is just what? Sticking around town? I honestly thought you were slightly more adventurous than flopping on the nearest couch to play the newest video game or to binge watch _Game of Thrones_ and _Supernatural_ again."

 _Not a bad idea considering half those trips I spoke of were not necessarily voluntary on my part._ Tristan mentally rumbled, trying best as not to furrow her brow as she took a far slower drink from her coffee. _Nor were they exactly 'vacation' material either._

But Jemma did _not_ need to know either of those tidbits. _Ever._ For that would unload a shit storm they'd never exactly recover from. Thus, after setting her now empty mug down, she leaned back in her chair, locking her fingers together. "So, I suppose I get your point, but… what's the notebook for then?" she asked out loud, waving said writing pad through the air. What did this have to do with traveling or lack thereof?

"Besides a going away present?" Jemma shrugged, a rather nostalgic expression on her face as she cupped her chin. "Well… as silly as it would sound, my late grandpa had a way of writing down about all his adventures," the woman mused prior to locking eyes with Tristan and minutely smiling. "Give it a chance, maybe you will pick it up too."

"Yeah okay." She rolled her eyes, getting up to get more coffee.

 _ **Present Day**_

Tristan couldn't help but make a face, rubbing the side of her pounding head. She wasn't exactly sure as to why that conversation came to mind right now, but she couldn't help but bitterly laugh at the irony of it all. Her friend wanted her to travel more? Well shit, it was rather safe to say Jemma got her wish. Like a particular Hobbit getting thirteen dwarves at his door, she suddenly found herself getting dropped off into an unexpected adventure… Except with a modern twist that included no working phone, passport, and nary an idea as to how she got there in the first place.

Basically, she was Bilbo Baggins without a handkerchief, and the so-called dragon was nothing more than a horrible prank. She was somewhat tempted to spite the reminiscence and pull out her gifted notebook, only to jot down rather rude indications as to where Jemma, or whomever, can stick it.

The question became then, whose idea was this? For surely there was an orchestrator to this whole exploit. Was it her coworkers? Catherine? Someone else, (Jemma probably), thinking 'Trish needs a vacation guys, let's drop her off [insert place] here!'? On that note, she wouldn't put it past Cat to hire a male stripper just for shits and giggles. Tousled hair? Dark eyes? Bitch was getting back at her for the Bar Event, she just knew it.

She gritted her teeth prior to wincing again, but this time ignored the urge to rub at her throbbing head. How could money be so damn heavy and since _when_ did coin purses come into style again? Bah, Tristan at least supposed they, whoever _they_ were that was, dropped her off in a semi-familiar area. While Florence hadn't exactly been her first choice back in undergrad, she couldn't lie that it was not a pleasant experience overall after Vienna fell through. Walking under the shadows of such great edifices as _Il Duomo_ and the famed Piazza del Signoria made one slightly humbler afterwards. All that history… Simply put, it was breathtaking. It was only a pity her student exchange program lasted such a short time. That, and she had always liked the fact locals could speak tolerable English for it was a Godsend whenever she had gotten lost in the labyrinthine streets of Florence. Even when the assistance was from the cute yet slightly annoying ones.

Speaking of…

Tristan pushed the cloth of the impromptu hiding place she had chosen this time aside. The cramped shed didn't conceal her quite as well as the stall she used just prior, but beggars could not be choosers for it had served its purpose nonetheless. Which was keeping out of sight from an extremely entranced teenager slash young adult. Judging by how his head went this and that way, she had to guess he was still searching for her. She temporarily felt bad when she caught a glimpse of puppy-like confusion on the young man's face.

Had it been wrong of her to ditch him when his attention was elsewhere?

Yeah.

Had it been slightly rude to disappear out of the blue even though he had been borderline creepy? Probably.

Notwithstanding, it didn't mean he was off the hook. He _did_ follow her without prompting and all. Even _if_ he had been trying to help.

He-er _Federico,_ (she recalled his name), looked torn. Why was that? Did it have anything to do with that group of other teenagers-? Tristan scowled. _Why_ was she even asking these questions? She didn't care. He was an interesting and... okay _yes_ , an attractive stranger, and he did offer some valuable input. However, that was it. She wanted no part in his craziness, and if that required her jumping into abandoned sheds and stalls to get away, so be it.

He must have eventually made up his mind a few minutes later, because his shoulders slumped prior to running off in the direction of those earlier hooligans. A breath of relief slipped from her lips. _Finally,_ something else finally caught his attention.

…buuuuuuuut, before extricating herself from the cramped space, she ruminated about her twin's shenanigans while they were kids. Federico running off like that- it _could_ be a fluke. Give a person enough false security to come out of hiding, only to nab them afterwards. God, how she had _hated_ Brent for doing that. Thus, just like her nine-year old self, she silently counted to that of ten Mississippi before deciding he was indeed gone and slid out of the shed with nary a sound. She kept low while skirting the outside edge of the structure, keeping an ear open for any shuffling feet. If anyone from afar spotted her and found the behavior odd, they didn't say anything— or at least out loud that was. Would not be the first time…

Once she cleared the shed, Tristan had to force her legs into keeping a brisk walking pace as she made her way out of the plaza, feeling vulnerable the entire way, despite the evening crowd. Yet she maintained, instead of the full out run they sorely craved to carry out. Much as she wanted to get back into the safety that was the shadows again, Tristan knew she could not draw more attention than was necessary to herself. As slow going as walking was- she knew without a doubt sprinting as if the Devil himself were after her was not the way. Regardless of how tempting it was to get the hell away from the general proximity of Tall, Dark, and Crazy as fast as freaking possible.

However, it was weird, if not disconcerting, for it seemed every other person within a stone's throw was freaking staring as she turned onto the first alleyway she encountered _._

 _Not really out of the ordinary,_ the woman mused. She _had_ purposefully dyed streaks into her hair in all those crazy college years to make a statement. But… a gut feeling told her _this_ type of staring was not like that. And it was what unnerved her the most.

"They're acting like they've never seen a lady with red streaks before," the brunette dryly muttered under her breath as she tied her snow jacket around her waist, watching one such spectator hurry on his merry way after having been caught. Hell if she didn't know any better, it even felt like they've never seen a woman in _pants_ before.

 _Probably because they hadn't_. It was intended as a joke. Really. A silly little joke because the very concept of being in Renaissance Italy was silly and ridiculous. Yet she still found herself stalling in the middle of the alley frowning.

She _couldn't_ be in Renaissance Italy since time travel was impossible. _Had_ to be, because it was only a thing that happens in books and movies— and in real life, there was no such thing as time travel despite the many claims otherwise. The last scientist who had claimed that 'fact' had been proved to be nothing more than a doctorate on hardcore hallucinatory drugs. Then there was that scientist from Abstergo. What was his name? Hopkins? Hartman? Ah right, she remembered now. Dr. Robert Henshaw, one of Abstergo's leading researchers who had disappeared a few years back. Smart _smart_ man, but apparently had a track record of trying to prove the impossible. There had been a big news story about it. How he was last seen walking into his secured office but supposedly never walked back out again. Sadly, after a year of searching by authorities, neither he nor his body were ever found again. Several conspiracy theorists claimed it was an attempt at teleportation that failed miserably, ending him up in some type of shadowzone doomed for all of eternity…

Tristan shook the thought away with a scowl chiding herself, "You're seriously considering the possibility? You're being ridiculous, Trish." There was no such thing as time travel. _Period._ This… this entire situation was nothing more than a roofie induced vacation, and would probably spell the last time she trusted any of her drinks in the presence of her coworkers. It was _just_ a very convincing Ren Faire event. Nothing more.

The young woman almost expected a half-assed built TARDIS to be around the corner with Greg or Paul dressed as the Doctor, Tessa as a companion, and if she had to guess, Chris in a homemade Dalek outfit. She could just see it too, all of them would be exiting the blue cardboard 'Police Box', and then starting to say those ridiculous Whovian-esque witticisms while waving homemade sonic screwdrivers.

But of course, there wasn't as she turned said corner- for that would have been ridiculous too. Just as ridiculous as a trench coat clad 'Castiel' appearing unexpectedly to whisk her away on God knows what. Nope it was just another unpaved street with carts and people in it going about their day. … an odd observation even if it was a Renaissance Faire.

As she continued, it suddenly hit her why she was so antsy— it was _far_ too quiet. It was funny how much you notice something the moment you no longer have it. She found it eerie not hearing the obnoxious sound of honking horns, the buzzing of air conditioners, the annoying catchy modern pop or Italian songs, no … well anything really. It was as if everything had been muted save for the occasional dog barking or a heated discussion slowly getting louder. It made her raise an eyebrow though when she recognized the Italian drawl that was their version of English. Wasn't often to hear her home language being spoken so readily here, because during her three months of residence she had always heard Italian being spoken more often than naught.

And by god, the smells here. The last three years had apparently changed Florence, for they were nothing like the last time. Years of living in the city, any one for that matter, had gotten Tristan used to the heavy odor of rubber on tar, the sharp scent of gas, and the choking pollution of vehicle exhaust. Instead what she got was baking bread, of someone not using deodorant times a hundred (pee-ew), and was that…? She sniffed, afterwards wrinkling her nose, yes it was the unmistakable foul stench of fresh shit.

Tristan's heart started to hammer as another corner went by with no signs of modern amenities in sight. Her pace quickened. _This can be explained…_

Except she was struggling to find a reasonable explanation for why there was no light posts or sidewalks. Why there were no annoying mopeds cutting off everyone, and on that note where were all the tourists? The cars? The street signs? Hell- for all the years she hated seeing litter and graffiti, she was even desperately clinging to the hope of seeing some sort of litter. An aluminum can, a discarded napkin, fuck even some asshat tossing his used disgusting wad of gum to the side.

So, she was more than surprised to find herself disheartened to find none of that as she stopped in the looming shadow of San Lorenzo- another famous monument that looked so damn new and devoid of any type of vandalism whatsoever despite being over five hundred years old. She was even looking for the eyesore of an abandoned lot that was nearby, only to find a beautiful unmarred statue in its place.

"This can be explained," she repeated, this time being vocal in the weakest of voices as she pressed her back against the building, suddenly finding herself out of breath, and thinking back to what Federico said prior to her sudden flight.

How he acted when she told him about snow.

How he dressed.

How he looked at her as if she was kind of alien, when she asked about using a phone.

How he kept _staring_ at her damn _jacket-._

The song of metal being scraped against leather sliced through her troubled thoughts.

She jerked, looking over to find a group of guards glaring daggers her direction. In other instances, she'd have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of their get up. Seriously? Who did they think they were? King John's personal guard? However, she found herself unable to do that now, not when both of their hands were wrapped around the pommels of their very real half drawn swords, their metal glinting in the light of the twilight sun.

There was a brief standoff as they regarded each other before she quickly broke eye contact and hurried away. No point in giving them an excuse to come over. Her with no passport and no inclination as to how she got here, would just be a field day for them no doubt. So right up to the point of turning the corner, she felt their eyes on the back of her head.

Even as she left their line of sights, her heart was practically trying to jump out of her chest. _Too close._ The remaining parts of her brain that still had some kind of rationality muttered. _Way way too close._ She went around another corner before finding a wide boulevard mostly devoid of people. _Dammit_. Tristan despaired. If they came after… She had nowhere to hide…

 _Those were swords and armor and-._

She was so stuck in her thoughts she would have nearly walked off into the Arno if it weren't for the loose cobblestone that she kicked up. The resulting _kasploosh_ made her startle. Before she knew it, she was teetering on the edge, facing one long drop into water.

"What the _fuck?!"_ She hissed, her arms flailing. When the hell was this bridge under construction?!

Tristan sucked in deep breaths as fight-or-flight took over, her arms pinwheeling to try and keep balance. After what seemed like long agonizing minutes, she managed to get herself into an upright position. A breath of relief whooshed out as she stepped back from the edge.

… or not.

She barely heard the heavy thuds of footsteps before something brushed her from behind, barreling her forward. She briefly saw red from the corner of her eye before gravity took over, and she found herself helplessly falling into open air.

 _Fuck my life._ She silently snarled.

* * *

 **~*End*~**

* * *

 **Want to thank my friend/roommate Captain Alice Hook for being so patient with me as I busted out this chapter, alongside redhairedwriter7 for letting me borrow her character, Jemma.**

 **Please R &R, and I'll see about hoofing out the next chapter as fast as possible. **

**Cheers!**

 **-TK**


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